


it's called congee

by gudetama (elementary)



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alpha Newt, Alpha Newt Scamander, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Caring, Fluff, M/M, MPreg (mentioned), Mating Cycles/In Heat, Non-Explicit Sex, Omega Original Percival Graves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 03:46:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12356775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elementary/pseuds/gudetama
Summary: Heats are awful for Percival but thankfully, Newt is an attentive mate.





	it's called congee

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, darlings. I'm afraid updates for the WIPs will have to wait a bit longer as I don't have the time or mind for anything plot-y at the moment while life gets busier and busier. I will hopefully have the last chapters of those up by the end of month and then there's another AU idea that bit me. Sigh.
> 
> So here's a surprisingly pornless (because I can't write smut lol) heat fic because I was musing about the next installment of my abo 'verse and this came up because the two in that 'verse will never have this hahahahaha....... No back story or plot intended, just my own random, simple indulgence.
> 
> Dunno if this is teen appropriate or if I should bump it to 'mature'. Anyway, enjoy!

Tina stares bewildered as Percival belatedly realises his unusually aggravated response.

“I apologize, Tina,” he says, rubbing a hand tiredly over his face, “that was unnecessary.”

She shakes her head even as her eyes remain wide, mouth gaping. “That’s alright, sir. But are you—” Her face creases in concern. “You seem rather exhausted—”

“It’s nothing,” he denies calmly even as a steady pounding starts up between his eyes. “As I was saying, I don’t believe the suspect was acting alone even if she apparated between those locations. You see here...”

And by the time the consultation is over—and after reassuring Tina that _yes, he’s fine_ —Percival feels a need to lie down somewhere and rest for a bit. Nothing hurts so much that he can’t function, but the little aches in the muscles of his limbs and back have built up to an overall heaviness in his movements and he wonders if he’s coming down with a virus. The last few weeks have been busy and with Newt briefly out of town, Percival hasn’t diligently cared for his own sleeping and eating habits. He’s much better at it than before he met his mate but sometimes, with the right circumstances, he can’t be bothered.

Considering all this, he can’t be blamed for his logical misassumption.

In the afternoon, he drops by the healing wards and takes a potion at least if only to suppress the symptoms for the next couple days while he wraps up some cases. The drowsiness is difficult to battle against and he downs more coffee than usual, ignores the strange, worried looks he receives from his aurors as they come and go.

The next day isn’t much better but he powers through his meetings and reports and supervising through force of will as he always has, giving no opportunity for the oncoming sickness to grab hold and drag him down before he’s ready. He has the mind to accept offered pastries and soups because somehow Newt instilled in his aurors that Percival needs a bit of care in his absence and it’s no hardship on his part to eat something and take quick breaks to keep his mate happy. Despite the efforts, Percival still goes home and passes out after barely taking off his coat and shoes, the smell of Newt on their sheets putting him immediately to sleep.

A fever wakes him too early and it’s all he can do not to melt into the bed and forget going to work. He forces coffee and toast and some medicinal tea down his throat as well as another potion, groans into his arms where he’s folded over the dining table, cursing that it’s only Wednesday.

As much as he loves his job, sometimes he really hates it. Hates that it can be burdensome at times, hates that he can’t stand transferring the responsibility to someone else. His pride and dignity are the least of what he invests into his work and it would need to be pried from his cold, unconscious fingers, figuratively speaking. And if he'd like to be unconscious right about now, that's only for him to know.

With the morning already off to a less-than-ideal start, Percival's ire grows when he notices people pausing to give him strange glances as he passes them. They make him feel particularly conscious of his obvious unkemptness despite his best attempt to appear normal. Some are rude enough to sniff and he wonders anxiously if he smells unclean. His office is a welcome reprieve and sanctuary when he arrives and he asks his receptionist to hold off any inquiries for an hour while he gets his bearings together.

A knock on the door has his head snapping up from where it had been laying unconsciously on the desk for a good part of that hour and he tries to get his flush under control while massaging a crick in his neck, calling for the person to enter.

Junior Auror Elsner comes in with a stack of reports much to Percival's annoyance followed by Senior Auror Perkins. Both freeze inside the door, staring at him with shock. Elsner blushes when Percival narrows his eyes at them and pointedly clears his throat, the young man swaying closer but then stops and shakes his head. Percival is this close to growling when Perkins takes the stack from the other auror and sends him away with a muttered, “I'll handle this.”

“What was that about, Perkins?” Percival asks tightly after she closes the door behind her.

Perkins doesn't answer right away, approaches his desk and places the reports on an empty corner. “With all due respect, sir, how come you didn't tell us about the suppressants?”

The question is delivered gently, no judgement in her tone, but it still raises his hackles as his mind whirls anxiously _how did she know how did she know how did she know_ —and it hits him a moment later, the little, unusual things of the past few days crashing all at once into his mind; the aches, increasingly cloying scents and this _damn fever_ —

 _He's going into heat_  and he is an absolute fool for not recognizing the signs even if his last one had been over a decade ago. They—he and Newt—have been anticipating this moment after much deliberation and Percival revealing that he trusts Newt, wants to spend the rest of their mated lives with no barrier between them. The healers weren't able to give them a decent estimate as to when his system would return to a regular cycle but Percival had been fine with that, figuring it’d be a sure thing anyway. The realization that it's actually happening now leaves him drained and dazed and more importantly, he’s _alone_.

“I...” he croaks, blinking dumbly at his subordinate.

“We need to get you home,” Perkins says reasonably as she comes around and gently pulls him up.

Thank Merlin for her beta sensibilities.

Percival stands on shaking legs that want him to collapse and he can't even find it in himself to be embarrassed for relying on one of his aurors who has caught him in this state. He tries not to lean on her because though his omega seeks immediate comfort, feeling vulnerable, he wants Newt. Even as the last dredges of his rationality tell him Newt won’t be back for another week, he can’t help the pinch in his chest, upset by his mate's absence when Percival needs him. And then he immediately scolds himself for being a needy omega and too easily tossing aside his professionalism while he’s still here.

“Fuck,” he gasps, his emotions running out of control likely from the damn hormones.

They’re out the door and someone is supporting him on his other side now and he blinks at Ms. Kett who is smiling yet frowning, clearly concerned.

“It’s alright, Mr. Graves; we'll keep you safe,” she says, as soft as her grip on him.

Percival grits his teeth. He doesn’t need protection for goodness' sake; he doesn’t need—he needs...

“Percy!”

“Wow, right on time, Scamander,” he hears Perkins say but the words don't really register as all his senses hone in on the figure walking up to them with a bright grin.

The grin drops however as Newt stops much too far away, causing Percival to whine involuntarily for his mate. He watches Newt’s nose flare in a deep inhale and green eyes darken, teeth baring in a growl and the next thing he knows there are strong, familiar arms around him, lifting him, a hand pressing his face down into a shoulder to scent at his mate. The door slams behind them after Newt tosses a quick 'excuse us, ladies' over his shoulder, locking them back in the office and Percival shivers and instinctively bares his neck when he feels a tug at his nape.

Newt lays him on the sofa, lays kisses to his throat that is now exposed and noses at his mark. Percival’s breath gets caught when he feels a warm tongue over it, and he can’t wait anymore so he pulls the man up impatiently and kisses him deep. His mate laughs against him, a delightfully warm sound.

“Hello, sweetheart,” Newt murmurs rather sensually after they part.

Even while being driven suddenly into a fierce arousal in response to Percival's pheromones, evident in the hot press of a hard bulge against his thigh, Newt holds himself carefully above him, kisses Percival softly, runs gentle fingers through his hair, along his jaw. The touches are more than welcome—a cool contrast to his heated skin—after being deprived for nearly three weeks and Percival absently marvels at Newt's timing. His mate’s gaze is full of tenderness and love every time Percival meets it in between kisses that coax whimpers and tiny moans from him, hands roaming over his unfortunately clothed body and persuading it to relax. He is positively goo by the end, Newt murmuring praises and promises, how _good_  he is, as he nibbles Percival's ear. The heat is now a small ember simmering in his gut waiting to become a full-blown flame, but bearable for the moment thanks to Newt's ministrations. He pulls Newt down again to scent him, hums against the skin of his throat, then lets his head be turned for another kiss.

“Let’s go home, Percy,” Newt mutters afterwards.

Percival nods, sits up when Newt pulls them upright, raises a hand to cup Newt’s cheek and stroke his thumb over it. “Not that I’m complaining, but I thought you had another week?”

In an intimate gesture, Newt holds that hand and turns his face into it to kiss the palm. “I finished earlier than expected and was planning to make another trip before coming back, but... well, let's call it a hunch.”

It's embarrassing the way his heart melts just a little more at those words as ridiculous as they are because surely it’s only coincidence, but his omega is pleased nonetheless, interpreting that his alpha is completely tuned to his needs. His lips stretch into a helpless smile and it’s all he can do to hold his straining body back from launching himself into his alpha's arms and show his appreciation right here in his office. _Wanting_. Newt’s eyes widen—certainly smelling the intensity of what Percival feels—and flushes, his grip tightening on Percival’s hand.

“Right,” he manages, sounding strangled. “Would you—I mean, the suitcase is safer for you. That is, no one would bother us on the way.”

Percival has never been more grateful for Newt’s suitcase because the idea of having to face his aurors as he is, like he was about to do prior to Newt’s arrival, isn’t something he’s quite ready for. He isn’t ashamed, no, and neither are his aurors, but there’s knowing one’s boss’s designation and then there’s smelling him in heat, and that’s simply beyond either parties. The thought sobers him, quenches more of the heat just underneath his skin and helps him to let go of his mate after Newt carries him down into his workshop.

Percival falls asleep before the lid closes above him.

 

 

He floats back to consciousness, to hands petting him soothingly over his bare back, disoriented enough that it takes a moment for him to realise he’s in their bed on his stomach stripped of undoubtedly dirty clothes. Percival is soaked with sweat and slick and it feels more disgusting than he remembers and the fever burns too hot that he’s sure steam must be coming off him. He blinks heavily up at Newt who's sitting cross-legged next to him, fully clothed, stroking a large, cold hand along various parts of his body. Newt smiles down at him before pressing a kiss to his temple, his nape, shoulder, the small of his back. He then nips right above the swell of his ass drawing an undignified noise from Percival.

“This was a terrible idea,” Percival grouches  even as he presses into each touch that stoke his arousal further.

“It only just started, love,” Newt frowns but there’s laughter in his eyes. “Besides, it was your idea, no?” Newt rolls him over onto his back, leans over and brushes back some of the damp hair sticking to his forehead. He cups Percival’s jaw, draws close. “For me to put a child in you.”

And then he licks deep into Percival’s mouth that’s falls open in shock at the blatant words. It has Percival gasping, clinging onto his alpha’s shoulders as they join their lips over and over again, has him whimpering when Newt kisses down his neck and bites at the flesh, hands dragging down his torso and pinching his nipples.

“I'm too old for this,” Percival still complains, gets a particularly hard nip for that. “And why are you still dressed? You’re far too rational for an alpha who's supposed to be heat-drunk.”

“Because, darling—” and Merlin, the eyes boring into his are anything but rational, the eyes of a predator about to devour him, “—this is our first heat together and I'm determined to be the gentle-alpha you deserve.”

Percival’s protests about not being made of glass soon get lost in moans and cries, sounds of desperation and sheer pleasure that get muffled by sheets and his fist, swallowed by kisses. By the time the third wave passes, he's very much appreciative of Newt's thoughtfulness and frankly impossible self-control that he hasn't broken him with the intensity of their love-making. He says as much while they’re tied for the fourth time, Newt feeding him bites of food and making him drink water that the alpha had the foresight to prepare beforehand. In response, Newt presses closer with a pleased rumble vibrating in his chest against Percival’s back, tangling their legs and mouthing at the mating scar on his neck.

After this is over, Percival doesn't think he'll ever be able see cheese cubes and apple slices the same way again.

His heat goes on for another three days, overwhelming in a way that brings tears of frustration to his eyes and make him wonder how he even survived his previous ones alone. It’s the cursed thing he remembers it as and it pushes him to his limits.

Newt is infinitely kind and patient when Percival lashes out in confusion and irritation, even blaming him at one point for allowing Percival to go through with this decision, as unreasonable as that is. He listens when Percival pushes him away one moment but pulls him back the next. Wanting but not, always needing something that even he himself isn’t privy to.

“It hurts,” he finally admits long after he lost track of time, lacking the barest of energy to curl up in shame.

To think that fighting a group of dark wizards alone might be easier than this. To think that he has come to a place in his life where he’s in pain from having too much sex, of all things. Yet it's also painful to not continue.

His mate brushes the moisture from his eyes and croons soft nonsense into his ear. He keeps his touches light and wraps Percival up in the sheets before carrying to the joined bath where the tub is already steaming with hot water.

 _When did that happen_ , he idly wonders, head lolling tiredly on Newt’s shoulder.

The sheets drop and Newt steps carefully into water, sitting them down and cradling Percival in his lap. Its warmth immediately seeps in to relax sore muscles and joints and Percival groans gratefully into Newt’s chest, feels a huff of laughter against his hair.

“I’m sorry,” Newt says, scooping up water and spilling it over Percival’s neck and shoulders. “I should have done this sooner. Do you feel better?”

Percival nods in response, beyond words at the moment. It feels heavenly and it only gets better when his alpha scrubs him clean of the fluids and other messes covering his skin. But the peace doesn’t last long enough, the need rapidly building again for the next wave and he’s sick of it.

It's through gritted teeth and with extreme reluctance that he manages, “Newt, alpha, I don’t—I need—”

Newt nods in sympathy, kisses a brow and rearranges them without sloshing the water too much. They end up dirtying the water and though it gives them an excuse for another bath, it leaves Percival as miserable and exhausted as before.

When it finally ends—the fifth morning, Newt informs him—he blinks awake to clean sheets and fresh air, no fever urging him to mate. Percival is treated to massages and cream rubbed into his skin, harmless relaxation potions of Newt’s homemade variety and herbal teas. He also gets as many cuddles as he wants that are about tactile comfort more than anything, and breathes in the clean scent of his alpha, free of any sexual undertones. The aftermath of his heat makes him feel like the spoiled omega he never wanted to be, but Newt reassures wholeheartedly that he deserves it.

He leans into Newt who’s currently in front of the stove cooking something that smells delicious; some kind of porridge recipe he learned in one of the Asian countries, he explains, but Percival doesn’t care as long as it sates his suddenly ravenous appetite.

“Thank you, Newt,” he mumbles into the underside of Newt’s jaw. “You’re a good alpha.”

Newt hums, pulls him closer by the waist and calls him a flatterer. “Love you, Percy,” he says with an adoring smile. “You did so well.”

“You did most of the work, if I recall correctly,” Percival replies dryly, but smiles as his alpha laughs.

Percival doesn’t know if he caught this time. They’ll know in about a week when scents are supposed to change with pregnancy hormones, but there's a good chance he didn’t; after all, his body has been out of the cycles for so long that it might take a few to go back to normal. He won’t be looking forward to it, to be frank, but if this is the treatment he gets for his heats, then it might not be so bad.

He trails a finger—back to its usual coldness—under Newt’s shirt and up his side, and smirks at the surprised yelp.

 _Not so bad at all_ , he thinks as he kisses away his alpha’s adorable pout.


End file.
